Page 25

My life started out predictably.  Kind of like a sit com of sorts.  My earliest memories were all based on that television object that I later rejected.  I remember this for example:  

Introduction: Live from our Burbank Studios we present America's favorite game show where knowledge is King, Lady Luck is a jester, and everyone tries to be Woody Allen, yes, its time for "Whose Got Woody."

(applause)

Introduction continued: And your host, Gilbreto Filberstein.

Gilbreto Filberstein (GF): Thank you Don. Our first contestant tonight is a Reform Rabbi from Brooklyn where he is with the Temple Shalom Paki, everyone please welcome our returning champion Isaac Snagglepuss. (more applause).

GF:  And our challenger tonight is a lawyer from Edwardsville, Illinois, a big hand of applause for  Sri Pseudo Pumpkin (marked less applause).

GF:  Now, contestants, I'm sure you know the rules.   We will give each of you a hypothetical situation, and your job is to react to it just like Woody Allen would do.  Each member of our studio audience will then electronically rate your performance on a scale of one to ten.   As the returning champion, the first question goes to you Mr. Snagglepuss:

(GF reads his card):   "You are at a dinner party and are asked what you think of the psychiatry of Freud:"

Mr. Snagglepuss:   Thats an easy one.  I tell them I worked with Freud in Vienna. We broke over the concept of penis envy. Freud felt that it should be limited only to women.  (laughter)

GF:  Lets see, our audience survey says, you earned a 9.24.  Very good Mr. Snagglepuss.  And now a question for our challenger:

(GF reads his card):  You are at an art opening and the attractive artist asks you what you think of the controlled brush strokes of her paintings and how they symbolically represent the control she has in her life.   You respond?

Mr. Psuedopumkin:  I tell her that this ontological structure is similar to kind of structure in Heidegger's "Being in Time".   Specifically, the control represents what Heidegger wants to get at--he wants, in the Dasein Analytic, to uncover the fundamental structures of Human existence.    (silence)

GF: Survey says 0.2.   I'm sorry, Mr. Pseudopumpkin, because your score is less than 2, it gives Mr. Snagglepuss a chance to steal the question.   What do you say Snagglepuss?  What does the control mean to you?

Mr. Snagglepuss:  I tell her that you can’t control life. It doesn’t wind up perfectly. Only art you can control. Art and masturbation. Two areas in which I am an absolute expert.  (roaring laughter)

GF:  And the audience survey says 8.78.  We'll it looks like our champion has successfully won round 1.  We'll be back for an exciting round 2 right after a word from our sponsor,

Page 3 (kind of--and still under construction)

People throughout history have spent a lot of time trying to get enlightened or achieve transcendence, whatever those words mean.  But I think the experience of enlightenment is the realization that we do not exist.  At least not in the way we think we do.  And when we are on our deathbed, experiencing our "final" moments of life, we maybe get a glimmer that the transition to death may not be that much of a transition at all.  Kind of a buzz kill actually.  And all our life our belief that we were alive was a delusion.

Imagine that--human's making things up.  I would have never believed that was possible.  Humans for example, can make believe they are dead.  That is called Contard's delusion. There is a documented case where a patient suffering from Contard's delusion believed he was dead so strongly that he actually starved. 

But what I'm getting at is the tendency toward a reverse form of Contard's delusion that we all share:  the belief not that we are dead, but that we are living.   This is a very practical and convenient idea.   Hard to do much of anything without it:-).   There are a mulitude of different perspectives on what constitutes life.   The biologists might say that we really are mostly a vast colony of bacteria in a host organism.  Though the belief that we are living has tremendous practical advantages,  it is still a belief-- perhaps no different than a belief that we are dead.

Like Cotard's, the belief that we are alive may be just as delusional or compulsive.  For in our belief that we are alive,  isn't there an internal narrative which we cling, a story we construct minute-by-minute to assure ourselves that we understand what is happening?  Sufferers of conditions like Cotard’s delusion may invent weird, nonsensical explanations for their reality because they are experiencing weird, nonsensical input. The only difference between these patients’ explanations and our own explanations is the degree to which they are obviously, verifiably false. Whatever explanations we manufacture at any given moment to explain our state of mind and body could be similarly muddled.   Whether or not your brain is damaged, your mind is always trying to explain itself to itself, and the degree of accuracy varies moment to moment.

Don't believe everything you think.  Even that you are just a big container of mostly bacteria:-).  

Still at the end of the day, I can't help wondering if this is what got her in trouble with the wardens in the land of Nod.  Maybe it wasn't that she summoned me.  Maybe it was that she possessed the forbidden knowledge of death?

Page 4 (or thereabouts)

Ok, so I know you are trying to get to page 2.  Perhaps your are curious, or you just want this thing to end.   Or both.  I'm a little curious myself, and I think I already know what I'm going to find on page 2.  Anyway, let me just say that you are close and you are nearing the end.  And page 2 probably has something to do with extraterrestrials.  Doesn't everything?

But before we get there, as a little precursor, let me introduce Walt Whitman.

Walt used to sing to himself claiming to be at once individual and universal.  His little ditty went something like this:

"I am large I contain multitudes."

Oh really, Walt?

The microbiologists tell us we are mostly bacteria.  Supposedly, we have ten times the number of bacteria cells in our body than other cells.  In other words, we have over a hundred times the amount of bacteria genes compared to the so called "Whitman" genes :-).

  

Could it really be that Walt is full of shit?  I know I certainly am.

So, dear Walt, while you sing of a self infinitely extending

You are literally a sac filled with bacteria.

What a downer.

If only you had eaten your yogurt

You could have been truly craptacular.

Page 18(or thereabouts)

The smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted up to the already acute olfactory senses of the her talking cat.

"My goodness," said the cat, "this has to be the best coffee I have ever encountered.  But do we know where it came from?  How do we know it doesn't have the mold?  Is it from a single source?  Are the beans grown in the shade and transported by the burro?  I'm developing a social consciousness in case you haven't noticed.   I want all my hard earned money to benefit only the most environmentally friendly operations."

"Ha," she smirked, "we'll to begin with, Taylor,  it is my hard earned money my feline friend.  The last time I checked you had nine lives, but not discernible source of income."

"A minor detail to be sure.  Have I ever told you best thing about you is your waist?  Wait until you see the statues in Taylor's bathroom."

"Now you are talking like a soft boy my feline friend.  I have something for that.  Why don't you chew on this flowery like substance for awhile.  Its called Trillium.  I obtained it from a medicine man.  It will expand your (cough) consciousness."

(Taylor the cat chews the white flower that looks something like a lotus blossom)

"Oh my God," hissed the Cat.  "We all so interconnected.   The coffee, you, me, Sergio, the guy who makes the coffee, the burro (whose name is Pedro), the details of transaction are automatically coded into blocks of data that are cryptographically linked together with other transactions and secured over a network.   The linked chain of data blocks have formed an incorruptible record of all the transactions that can be replicated on every computer that use the network.   On this blockchain that I see before me, you can see not only debits and credits of the transaction, but other information such as history of ownership and location, title, contracts, real world objects, each individual coffee bean—and even personal information.   I now need to explore all of this."  

"Be careful Taylor, you might not like what you find," she replied with a warning that sounded amazingly like what Dr. Zaius said at the end of that old movie about Apes.

"Here is what this chain says:  Start the weekend off right with tasty treats out in the Cortex food truck meetup from 11am--1pm.  Due to the rain today, DJ's Gul-licious Backyard BBQ treats will not be with us this week.  But you can still find them at your favorite grocery store.  This chain over here says that our neighbor has irritable bowel syndrome.   While he is away, I suggest we break into his house steal his hard drive and hide it in a place he'll never find.  What if social media is just something that drives human societies insane?  What if the negative externalities outweigh the total use value?"

"Taylor, I told you not to go into the forbidden zone."

"If fake news actually influences reality, it takes all the fun away from satire, and especially from the Jean Paul Satire.  By the way, I think I'm having an existential crisis over here, what was in that flower?"

"I'm going to take you back to my room and give you the Languedoc wine."

"Did it come from a single source?  Here, give it to me now and I will check its Blockchain distribution." 

Page 24

The Pando continued to whisper in her ear as it had throughout the eons: "We aren't really anything.  We are the ocean.  We are vast and rhythmic.  When we have thoughts, we become more solid.  The disturbing thoughts will even bring calcification and pain to our body," and so forth, and so on.

But she paid little attention.  She was already interested her other characters who were lost in some subterranean maze.  They were trying to escape from something. Or trying to solve a puzzle.  Or both.  They were circumnavigating levels.  One of the characters seemed to have success.   She focused on that character.  In fact, she may have become that character as the adventure continued.   Now she seemed to have the required answer to progress to the next level. 

The whispering continued in a gentle rhythm:  "In this way, each thought we have/become brings its own little separation.  And its separation from the whole in a way is a little trauma.   But each thought also becomes its own little act of creation.  This is the magic of reality.  Trauma creates thoughts and thoughts are what makes us Choate.  Thoughts are what bring something out of nothing.  And like a snake eating its own tail, as with my companion the Ouroboros, our act of creation is a way of working with our trauma, perhaps building a structure around the trauma, perhaps dancing with the trauma," and so forth, and so on.

Eventually, she found herself in a room with several other people.   One of them was a man who had been in her group before, on previous levels.  One of them was me, the author of this book.   Maybe you were also there as well.  I'm not sure.   If you were there we were sort of only observers at this time.  We weren't really in the room in the way that the others were in the room.  There were also several others.

As events unfolded, she and the man were sorting out some of the documents that lay spread out on the table before them.   There was rhythm to their sorting   Several of the other people in the room were also assisting on moving the documents around.  There seemed almost to be a competition going on between her and the man and the others.  They started emitting a soft humming which grew louder as the sorting increased in intensity in rhythm to the sounds of the sorting.

When this was going on, from deep within me, a little voice started saying like a mantra, "I am here, I am here"  I kept saying this over and over in harmony with their humming and sorting.  It seemed that as I kept saying this, my body started to take form.  I felt like I was the answer to what she and the man were trying to do with their sorting.  I tried to get her attention to let her know that what she was doing was successful because I had been created.   I realized that what she was doing was conjuring me up in a sense.  I was being created.  I tasted bile in my mouth and I was having trouble breathing, like I was being born or something.   I became anxious.   It was almost like I was in a simulation, like that space in ayahuasca I go to where I realize that everything I have known, lived, or thought, was an illusion.  But we won't get to that until page 47.

Then I found I was almost awake, but I didn't want to be.  I had it in my mind I had to go back into the dream, to connect with her again and to find out what information was in the prior levels of her adventure.   I don't remember specifically what she was doing when I started to wake up, but I felt it was important.  Then I eventually woke.  It almost felt like she was an aspect of my consciousness finding its way to the surface, and the reason why she was so successful in navigating it was because she already knew how to create things like me and exist on a variety of levels of reality.  

The Pando continued:  "Some thoughts will repeat, like our bodies attempting to heal ourself by oscillating us back into motion, into the ocean.   And healing oscillations also arise in trance states, drumming, or mantras," and so forth, and so on. 

Page 23

In the land of Nod, she began life in a relaxed lucid dream, much as her mother and grandmother before her.

Some people believe there are only two forces which shape human beings:  nature and the environment.   And since the personality is largely formed during the first three years of life, it is written that it is the environment which is paramount.

Not so in the land of Nod, where dreams can be controlled by the dreamer. As such, the effect of the environment on the personality is negligible.  An after thought.  What is important are desires. Because desires in the land of Nod are endlessly fulfilled, the quality of desires determines the character of the individual.

But in all lands, even Nod, there are rules.

Most of her prison term in the land of Nod was served in Mimizon where the beds are small and uncomfortable.  Nevertheless, in Mimizon, she had wild adventures in the four corners of the realm and intrigue with the most handsome men.  She also vowed to the warden at the appointed times that she would never again dream the forbidden.  But still she stayed and was not be released.

Her bed of course was a magical bed, but as she grew older objects began to appear that she could not control.  This is as true in Nod as it is in other realms.  In fact, one of the interesting things to explore in this little circle you have started is the lack of difference between Nod and the other realms.   

Anyway, one of the most persistent objects that appeared and she could not control was a white tree.  The tree beckoned to her, but she knew better than to listen to the objects in her dreams for it was written that voices in dreams are the path of nightmares.

"You are alone," said the tree.  "I live as one with all objects around me.  Forgetting an individualized self, you discover the totality of who you are.  Love is forgetting your self.  Set aside you worldly desires,"  and so forth, and so on.

And she felt that there was a certain element of truth to what the tree said.  For she knew this was the Pando tree, the largest organism in the land of Nod which spread its many tendrils, roots and branches into many lands, including the legendary land of wakefulness.  But still for many years she avoided its call.

I'm not sure what pushed her to listen to the tree.  When we are under stress we sometimes take drastic steps and sometimes throw caution to the wind--perhaps regretting it later--perhaps not.  It is written that every dreamer eventually wakes up.  But its not clear exactly what happened to her.  At least not yet.

Table of Contents

You don't have to start at the beginning of this book.  I know its the customary thing to do, but a little bird told me that you can start wherever you want.   I think I'm going to start at page 23.  Page 23 is a great place to start if you just woke up and are not really focused yet.  If you still remember the dream you had last night, page 23 is recommended   But I'm sure wherever you start, we are going to meet somewhere along the way, like we always do, like all humans always have and always will.  Because we are not really separate.  But we won't get to that until page 42.

I guess I'm really not that much into the idea that there are beginnings, middles and ends of things, even books.  Think of what you are reading more as a circle, perhaps.  Or don't think of it at all.  I think I'm more into exploring things rather than thinking.  Or at least that is my aspiration.  

If you do keep reading, page 2 can be a little disconcerting.  I think in some ways it is the end of this little adventure, the answer to all our little questions, perhaps even before the adventure started.  Which is a natural progression of things, I suppose.  We are born, we live, and we die.  And its not a happy ending, actually kind of macabre unless there is a whole lot of context.  And I think that is where the fun begins: adding context.  Or maybe letting everything else fall away.  Or both.

So without further adieu, 

Elevator Going Down

 So I was in an elevator last night at 1:30 am, holding onto my new grounding wire connected to the cold water pipe of my bathroom, going down into the earth, literally and figuratively.  And in this dream, I was waiting in line to get in the elevator, I think, but that wasn't the important part.  And there were kids milling about.  And I think even one of them pushed the button to go down.  And there was a female also associated with the elevator.  And she was running the show.  Kind of.  

So the elevator started slowly down, and then it sped up, disconcertedly fast--making me wonder what button the kids pressed.  Or mushrooms they may have eaten before the dream.  I remember an abrupt stop after what seemed like 99 floors going down.  And the doors opened up to a dark area.  And the kids all dispersed.  And I think it was just me talking to the woman.  And the woman was stating rather plainly that we should not have come here.  And part of me wanted to go back.  This place was uncomfortable.  Physically uncomfortable.  But part of me felt that this was the place I should be.  It was very quiet and still.  And part of me belonged here.  This was what I had been searching for but not yet recognized.  There was a conflict in me.  And the woman pointed out a path in the distance and motioned for me to go to the "natural disbursement area."  To follow that path.  And there was nobody around.  And it was dark and very dimly lit.  And I can sort of remember another dream about this as well.

So I know I'm looking for too much meaning here and liable to get my butt spanked for doing so, but the kids inside of me are always pressing buttons without really thinking about anything.  But I want to go to that underground place in the stillness.  This is the end of the road for me.  Literally.

Naturalistic View of the First Noble Truth

 So in speaking with Professor Jeremy Engels with my favorite co-host Dr. Lynn, Jeremy forwarded the analogy of the hypervigilant chipmunk with its head flittering about with all sorts of energy constantly scanning for danger compared to the chipmunk that settled down when Dr. Jeremy was in a posture that was still and relaxed.

To me, this basically explains everything and the stress inherent perhaps in our modern society of overstimulation.   We are constantly flittering around and interfacing with cell phones, movies, televisions, work, people, loud music, driving--a constant barrage of stimulus.

And when I go into my little dark cave, also known as the town homes condo on the 9th floor, and get still, I can feel this energy body still flittering about, still reacting to the stimulus of the day.  My inner hypervigilant chipmunk so to speak, still flittering about.  But I'm learning to slow it down, bit by bit, through caring for it. Staying with it.  Not avoiding it with more stimulation.   Its kinda a long process, 60 years of overreacting is still a bunch of energy.  Wish me luck.  Namaste

Are You in the Room or is the Room in Your Awareness--Poetic Fragments waiting to take Shape

 I guess this is a way of investigating whether your present experience is third person awareness (I am one of the things in the room--I exist in the room) or a first person awareness (my sense of the room and all the objects originate within me). 

But really I'm more interested in the gravity to my thoughts, a stickiness that holds me in their grip.  Whether I exist in the room or the room exists in me--there is this gravity.  This pull.    I can't jump high either.  Except on a good day.  Always being pulled back down. But when I do get pulled down, pulled down to the earth in my thoughts, if feel it.  This is not just about the mind.  The earth is in the mind, as is the air.  Can't you feel it.  The spacious part of your mind.  The space in the room that you are in.  The space that your mind is in.  Can you feel the fire sometimes?  Do you flow with the water and blood in your body?  

When this binding force becomes me, my thoughts coalesce.  The room coalesces.  Fully formed thoughts go from the ground and up to the air, vibrating with the energy of motion.  When the binding force that becomes me, that holds me together thoughts and the body become one with the thoughts with the room.  When the experience of the me becomes the not me but the gravity of the nigredo.   And I wait for something new to bloom.  

To Charles Shaw, But Not Really😂

Eye don't have to look for you anymore

my finger touches you resting on the ground

I'm laying next to you

I am you, chuckle chuckle

And we know I'm usually up moving around you

dancing synesthetes in each of the four directions

getting lost in our gaze

as the moon points at our finger

but when i breathe in, you breathe, 

Can't you feel it? 

I can almost feel it on a good day

and when I lay down and touch the stomach

doesn't that feel good?

and when you bring me down that rabbit hole

its a whole nother world isn't it?

A world where neither you or I have any footing, 

but we lay back and enjoy the ride

Bumbling Along

MK:  At one of my sacred places this morning (fyi--bike trails east side south of south eastern high school in front of hackberry trees and homeless tent areas--but actually, the judge's house for wayward women on a sunday at 630 am) and I had a glimpse of reality the way our ancestors used to experience it or so I imagine.  Sort of makes it all worthwhile

MO:  Details please.

MK:  Come on you know there can't be details, when the intellectual mind gets involved, it takes away all the fun, total buzz kill.  De-tails.  When you see the tails explaining it--details, it takes away the heart of it.  De-composition, De-compose, De-construction, De-fy, De-scribe.  I don't like this De.  I want to have a word with him.  I will show you my tail though if it helps.  

Oh, and another reason I don't like the catholic churches is I used to work with this guy, and I go to New Years Day Parties at his house.  He lives about 5 miles from you:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/David_Clohessy.   And another reason I don't like the catholic church is because they don't allow women priests.  That's a total anathema to what I actually believe in terms of an earth based, nature, woman creator sort of thing.  And because I'm on a roll and evidently need to get this off my chest, I would totally go back to the church if they just came out with the fact that Jesus was likely gay or queer or likely not straight. Then I'd go back to the church because we all know gay people are more fun and to exclude queerness from your community likely founded by a queer seems like a total train wreck.  And if you don't believe me on this, this guy wrote a book on it:  https://lareviewofbooks.org/article/the-queerness-of-it-all-an-interview-with-jeffrey-kripal/

Deep breaths, settle down.

Now to circle back from all of this anti-Catholicism back to the question of of the details of my experience, basically, the fact that I was brought up with a monotheistic religion precludes me usually from the type of experience i had this morning, except on rare occasions when the animistic undercurrents can peek through the totalitarian monotheistic conditioning.  In other words, my fundamental critique of Christianity is that it gets in the way of a more primal intimate experience of reality by superimposing a unitary divinity on the vastness.

Of course, then Kali reminds me just to shut the fuck up.   

How do you pronounce Dolphin?

 So I'm writing this poem to the woman who might be on the podcast to sort of set the mood.  And its not really a poem, because I'm not a poet, and I know it.  But it goes like this:

So Walt Whitman thought we all contain multitudes.  Which in this day and age mean that we all contain emojis.  Lots and lots of those little fuckers.

And when I'm texting that roofer, getting all roofied, I got the stream of those little fuckers coming out of my phone

one after another like a little computer program spouting out shit.  And Goddamit, each one of those little guys its a part of me.  I got all of them little things going on inside.  

And if really want to go back even before Walt baby, those multitudes (cause probably Walt knew about bacteria or something--he was a nurse after all for a time) (footnote see below), 

back if we were all indigenous--all those little fuckers would probably be like spirits.   Lots of little ones.  And big ones, tricksters, Elegua, Ogun, Oshun, Shango, Eshu, Yemaya and hundreds more.  Even more than those goddamn emojis.

And let me tell you, the orisha are not amused about what they have become.  (Well actually some of them are, but that's another story)

And you may think, I'm crazy for thinking each one of our thoughts is a spirit and we are all possessed and haunted as fuck.  Or a hollow bone--after all he was a Fool's Crow, right?  

But our haunting is like a majestic tree with roots and emojis spreading down to the earth in all directions exchanging vital fluids with us just like male squirrel on the tree was trying to do to the female squirrel. 

But if that is cray cray, I would much rather be the cray than those two woman on the trail in front of me today.  So many emojis coming out of their mouth or what they are going to do at work today, what they are cooking, where there are going this weekend all with a posture hunching down to the ground, dead before their time.

But maybe I shouldn't be so hard on them.  Those emojies gotta get to the earth, one way or another.  And some people have roots (or want them like me) and all some people got is emojies coming out trying to get to the earth through a hunched body.

FN1  Louis Pasteur supposedly discovered bacteria around 1860.  So Walt may have know about this when he did the multitudes bit.

I Suppose it Started at The Overstory

 And especially with the character of Mimi.  The engineer gone rogue, shacking up in trees with the Viet Nahm vet guy, then out of nowhere becomes a therapist practicing Shamanism.  That Mimi.   Kinda reminds me of some dude I know or have met in passing.  

 And the Shamanistic therapy she engages with her small number of clients that spreads over the entire day so eloquently describes what I know to be a description of every conversation all the time everyday that we have with everyone, but slowed down and switching the matrix pills so that you can really see what is transpiring.  That Mimi.  And the conversations reveal that it is not Mimi and the client talking, but spirits interacting and dancing in a common space.  Speaking of which, I am recording a podcast later today about a film on NDE accompanied by Dancers on the screen, which seemed most fitting and related to my 3 am experience last night.

Then at 3 am the Hexy energy changed from sexual to an opening up of love and the dance, the dance of Mimi and the Near Death movie dancers, there is a dance going on inside of us.  So when Mimi gazes into the clients eyes, the dance is revealed, and when I gaze into Hexy's eyes, the dance is revealed.  And its not our interaction, it is the dancers interaction.  This is where it is all leading, my interest in spirits and trance, the spirits want to go to the earth, they want to go down to the earth.  We need to find love in the sex.  That is what I have not experienced.  At least at 3 am.  But even when I say this holding the amethyst the white energy comes into me. 

El Shabbat on a One Way Road

 Ok, so down the rabbit hole with this one.  Right before I woke up this morning I was driving in the wrong direction on a one-way road.  Like turning right while on Cook street to Seventh Street and realizing traffic is heading right at you.  So I pulled over and tried to turn around and traffic was heading right at me from that direction as well.  In other words, I needed to pull my dram car over and stop driving.

Anyway, at three am, I dictated a kind of rambling dream in which among other things, had some dentist with a Jewish name like El Shabbat.  Which of course when I looked it up later is all about the Saturday morning of rest.  So in other words, the dream was a reminder that I should not go driving later in another part of the dream.  Take a rest dude.  Don't do anything.  Stillness.  Or as you hypothesized some Iranian doctors as having, CLARITY.  Whatever. CLARITY is overrated when the universe that operates in modes that are BEYOND MY PAYGRADE.  Ok, I'm stopping:  :-)

I'll be your bitch, especially if you were a cheerleader

So I have been reluctant to expose the full excitement and weirdness I have at times.  And it probably stems back from being social awkward growing up, especially among women.  And somewhere along the line I must have been told I was weird or didn't really fit into the vibe kids were in at the time.  I suppose that wouldn't have been surprising.  Lately, I've noticed the comfort I get when I expose (notice I keep using that word, like being naked) my feelings.  Like with SD when I said that I was going to be a channel, or D where I indicated we would be checking in on each other as we grow old in the same building.   And yes, if she was a cheerleader back in the day, I would be her bitch, (her word).  And there was something almost touching about that how I have this younger part of me that can demonstrate its raw emotions to connect with someone for comfort.  And there is nothing wrong with that.  I guess if I get rebuffed, they are not part of my tribe to begin with right.

And of course this rawness is also like turtles all the way down, and of course it has a dark side as well.  And I get that as well.  Like one organism swimming into another under a veneer of love.  I get that as well.  But by God, just the comfort of being at ease with someone would be so awesome.  Even if it was a product of human design...lol  

By the way, I love that little guy who is some girl's bitch.  He's kinda hysterical.  And I wonder if the gift of being used by someone goes all the way down into some esoteric act of surrender or theurgy.  Would not be surprising.  I feel i'm going down the hypnotic stairwell deep in the forest, or in my ancient east side boarding house to find out the mystery of where that leads, where my younger needy guy leads me.  

Another One of Those

 I had another one of those dreams last night where none of the characters or events were in any way "human".  It was all about survival, I think, but even that might be too much of a human word.  It makes me wonder what existence might be at it most basic level, and how consciousness is nothing more than shielding us for this fundamental reality of eating or being eaten.  Or something in between.

This dream occurred somewhat early in the night I think and when I woke up and had even a rudimentary understanding that I had just had a dream the enormity of the dream beckoned me back in.  I didn't want to get up or move, but I wanted to go back in and not run from it, which I guess is interesting in itself, and its sort of interesting that this inclination to face the difficult stuff may be getting more hardwired in my brain.  

And I wondered if all this interest in spiritual things, and meditation, is all a way of self soothing which seems more and more fundamental to what I'm doing.  Trying to settle myself down and comfort myself in the face of this anxiety of what is really going on underneath everything.  Let it all in.  Welcome it.  Soothe it.

A Prisoner, Sort of ?

So in the dream, I was sort of identified with a little boy who was taken prisoner, kind of.  But kinda not really because I was given instructions that even though I was a prisoner and would be working for this family as a servant, I was really spying on them on behalf of some unidentified power that I guess had lost some sort of battle or war, but that part was not clear.

So the family I was working for was the Kennedy's.  As in John F Kennedy the former president.  And so  went in my childhood, I worked for the Kennedy's and I took their mail and gave it to someone.  I was a spy after all.  But after a while, I think what happened is that I became attached to the Kennedy's and told one of them  (I think a male) that I had been a spy because I thought that being a spy was wrong and I liked the family. 

Later on in the dream, I must have been really attached to the family, because I started sleeping with the matriarch.  She was a lot older than me.  I don't really remember that part, but I remember thinking that she must have been instructing me on the whole sex thing as she was older and I guess the kid I identified with was no longer young.  Keep in mind, I really wasn't him in my dream, or the dream was not in the first person through his eyes, I was sort of a spectator.  But I do remember getting out of bed with the matriarch and seeing that she was old.  I wasn't concerned about that then, what I was concerned was that one of the other spies (e.g. child prisoners) who had been working for the Kennedy's would report that I had been compromised or something.  So I remember trying to hide my relationship with the older matriarch from everyone.

Then later on the scene changed to a different venue, and one of the prisoners I think was ordering food and it seemed like all was well and that everyone was connected and there was no distinction anymore between the prisoners and Kennedy's.  Or I guess I wasn't concerned that my relationship with the matriarch would be revealed.  I do remember toward the end of the dream looking at an old photo of myself as a kid in an old German Wehrmacht uniform.  So in retrospect, I guess I must have been a German prisoner.

This dream lasted what seemed like the whole night.  I remember waking and going back to sleep and getting back into it.  And it felt when I awoke that some part of me that had been empty was filled with a different energy.  Which felt really good.  It felt like the dream added some part to me that wasn't there before.  Something new and not previously connected to my life.  Something like what my Kelly Walsh friend told me about Thermopolis years ago and I guess has come to fruition.  I guess that sort of has been on my mind, but I haven't quite bought into that story yet as there could be a trickster involved:-).   And then that energy changed to a feeling of chaos and madness, which I was able to ground and feel grateful for what it was showing me.  As if the chaos was anxiety inchoate which I remember to turn into a friend.